A company of English capitalists were spending a good deal of money on
the west coast of South America in building railroads into and over
the Andes. One of these roads was intended to reach a famous silver
mine, from which the Spaniards, two or three hundred years before, had
taken large quantities of the precious metal, but which had long ago
been drowned out and abandoned. The railroad was to take up pumping
machinery by which the mine could be cleared of water and to bring
down the ore in car-load lots. For some purpose or other they wanted
a stationary engine in those high altitudes, and their agent in this
country ordered one from me. I was having my fly-wheels and belt drums
cast by Mr. Ferguson, whose foundry was on 13th Street, west of Ninth
Avenue, some seven miles distant from my shop in Harlem. He had a
wheel-lathe in which I could have them turned and bored, and they were
bored to gauges and shipped direct to their destinations. This time I
had two wheels to be finished, so I sent the gauges with a tag attached
to each describing the wheel it was for, but neglected to go and make a
personal inspection of the work. Some months after I received a bitter
letter from South America, complaining that they found the wheel had
been bored half an inch smaller than the shaft, and that they had to
chip off a quarter of an inch all around the hole where the barometer
stood at 17 inches, and physical exertion was something to be avoided.
The case was somewhat relieved by the fact that I always cored out a
larger chamber in the middle of the hub for the purpose of getting
rid of a mass of metal which would cause the hub to cool too slowly,
finishing only a length of two inches at each end of the hub, which
was 10 or 12 inches long. As the engine had been paid for on shipment
and ran well when put together, there was no great harm done, but I
was sorry for the poor fellows who had to do the work. Except the one
already mentioned in my first governor pulley, ten or twelve years
before, this was the only misfit I can recall in my whole experience.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account